


Sunset on Saturn (and other intergalactic love stories)

by awildlokiappears



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, more characters later - Freeform, sci fi romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:46:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildlokiappears/pseuds/awildlokiappears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love is easy. Keeping it, that's pretty hard sometimes. But planning a wedding around an interstellar attack and retreat? Clinton James Barrows had his hands full...and then some jerk of a Dar'thorin had to go kidnap his fiance. Shenanigans, kidnapping, some non-con references and general villainy on part of a Dar'thorin Kidnap Squad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset on Saturn (and other intergalactic love stories)

1\. Clint and Cass

They met at precisely 10 : 16 : 42 am, on Wednesday, August 16th, 2013. (She would have said 'Too damn early' and 'What day is today again?', but that was because she was cute and concerned with bigger things.) She was pretty in an honest way; she didn't need cosmetics or anything else to add to what was already perfect. Big, pretty blue eyes that caught the light and sparkled, just a hair hidden behind dark - rimmed, simple glasses, all framed in long, soft, windblown auburn hair, as multifaceted as those eyes and always teasing at the nape of her neck and pulling out of her bun. He might as well have dug out the grimy old key to his heart and handed it to her right then and there, because she'd no more and asked for his order, and he knew; she was the one.

* * *

"Baby, where'd my jeans go?" Clint's groan from the pillow went unanswered, and he lifted an aching head to peer blearily around the little bedroom, and he lifted himself up with a rumble, wincing as his back cracked. "Cassie, honey?" He called, turning to sit upright and look around; thankfully, his jeans were laid over her desk chair, and he dragged them on, leaving them to hang off his hips as he shuffled out of the sea of clothing and blankets and into the small living room. He glanced around, rubbing one eye, more than a little confused now, and shuffled down to the tiny kitchen. Her apartment was dinky; a little hole in the wall of a place, but she was happy, and if she was happy, he was content. But his gorgeous gal wasn't anywhere in the apartment, and he heaved a sigh, making his reluctant way to the tiny coffeepot she'd gotten for his birthday.

He blinked when the small filter popped out, filled with fresh Colombian ground and ready, and his eyes dragged over to a covered plate right next to it, her favorite shade of purple post-it right on top.

/Got called in early, had to run! Here's an easy breakfast!/ His lips twitched in a smile, and he gently lifted the porcelain, smiling fully now as he gazed at the slightly squished blueberry muffins. Hell, they were even his favorite flavor and he picked one up to munch as his coffee brewed. Calling her now wouldn't work; if she'd gotten called in, the diner had to be packed solid, and she wouldn't have a chance to respond back for at least a couple more hours. It spoiled his decidedly different plans for their first shared day off in months, but he wasn't gonna be an ass about it and throw a fit...He checked the calendar that hung on the dividing pillar between the living room and the kitchen and rolled his shoulders, straightening up.

She'd be tired, worn out, and definitely not in the mood for anything but food when she got home; he grinned a little. It was more than time to pay her back for all the nights she'd waited up for him.

The day passed in a blur of laundry, dishes, vacuuming, organizing, and cooking, and by the time Clint was finished, it was only five minutes shy of her normal shift release. He put the biscuits into their towel-draped bowl and settled the baked chicken onto the plates he'd heated in the microwave; a little dash of sauce, his own special mix of barbeque and a hint of olive oil and some spices, and then the veggies and mashed potatoes. He didn't cook often, mostly due to being absolutely exhausted from his job, and he felt bad now for not doing it more; Cassie worked in food nearly every damn day, and had to be sick to death of cooking...He smiled as everything plated up perfectly, and he bustled about, lighting candles and uncorking the wine.

Glancing up at the clock that she'd hung opposite the calendar, just a hair outside the door, he had a couple spare minutes till she got home; it was a ten minute walk to and from, and she hadn't taken the Jeep, so he knew he could count on that. So he mused for a bit, wondering what else he could do...when his eyes flit to the bathroom, just beyond the door to her closet, and grinned. He ran a steaming hot bath, far too hot for now, but it'd cool down as they ate, and poured in a generous helping of her favorite bath oil. Hopefully, she'd like it...and the jiggle of keys in the door made him yank on a tee shirt, hopping as he pulled on socks and stumbled into the living room, ready to greet her with a grin on his face.

Cassie looked like hell, and that was putting it nicely. Her hair was down, and between the spots of whipped cream drying in her bangs and the crimped, clumping ends that looked like they'd been dipped in syrup, it would take an hour to shower it out. Her apron had a huge coffee stain down the front, and he sucked in a concerned breath, because she had to have at least one bad burn from that...her blouse was stained too, and her black pants dusted with powdered sugar from the pastries. But it was her eyes that made him just collapse; she was tear-streaked and sniffling, and eyes full of hurt and fear.

"Honey..."

"They fired me." There was a moment of stillness, and Clint walked forward and gently scooped her up, kissing the tears away as he took off her glasses. The first hiccuping sob was expected, if upsetting, and he walked her carefully to the living room, pulling her into his lap as she started to cry in earnest. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"Shhh...shhh...baby, you've got nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all. If they can't appreciate all the work you've put into that shithole, they don't deserve you. It's okay, it's alright..." He continued on that vein for some time, glad he'd put everything to keep warm in the microwave, and just let her cry it out. Clint wasn't an astoundingly smart guy, he knew that...but he knew when to listen, and when to talk. And the last year or so of living with the lovely lady he held now had only intensified that; because Cassie? She was a damn saint. She'd gone to college, gotten a small degree, and when the job market hadn't panned out, she hadn't once minded getting her hands dirty, and had gone back to the diner she'd worked at in high school. Most of the patrons still loved her, and hell, he'd met her there, after all. Everyone in town knew the place, and most of them knew her, well enough to give him hell whenever they walked in or he came in with his work buddies.

Which was why he was so confused, in spite of his rather harsh words. Johnny's Diner wasn't a bad place, and the bosses loved his Cassie...so why the hell had they done this? She was the best of their workers, the one who'd been there the longest outside Mae, the head waitress, and Vern, the best grill guy north of the Mason-Dixon. And Cassie...his Cassie...he just hugged her closer and when the tears tapered off, the sun was setting in her foggy, plexiglass windows and the shadows were gathering close. He ran a hand through her hair, careful not to snag any of the now dry, crusty bits littering the soft red-brown.

"...Honey? Wanna take a hot bath while I wash your hair?" He kept his voice soft, gentle, and she sniffled, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"...Y-yeah. I'd like that..." He smiled and eased her up, glad he hadn't put up all the laundry yet; he swiped one of his handkerchief and let her clean up the inevitable runny nose and eyes. "Thank you..."

"Always, baby. I can get you some clothes ready, if you'd like?" She smiled a little bit more then, and his hands cupped her face for a gentle brush of a kiss.

"You're so good to me, Clint. Seriously, this...came out of the blue. I'll talk about it in a bit, I promise...but thank you. Thank you..." He smiled and kissed her again.

"It's not a problem. Never has been. A tee shirt, those cute purple panties I know you love, and yoga pants?" She gave a raspy laugh and nodded, and he helped her stand up, tugging his jeans up as he went. "Alright then. I'll meet you in the bath...ah, fuck, gimme a sec." He ran in and started to drain the now cold water, kicking himself for not just waiting...and a gentle hand, her skin cracking across the knuckles, stroked his lower back.

"Clint, hon..."

"I want to do this right." He said quietly, and her arms went around his waist, gentle and just holding him close as he dropped his head. "I want to do this right by you." He murmured, his hands closing around hers, feeling the press of what he knew, what he did, for the first time in a long time. He was damned good at his job, and how he did it, but sometimes...he wished he could tell her. Because of all the people in this backwater fuckin' town, she'd understand...

"You do so much more than anyone else for me, by me." Came her soft reply, and he turned in her arms to cuddle her close, letting the hot water steam up the room around them. "At the expense of your time, your money...you do so much. And I love that about you, like I love everything about you, Clint. Because you just want me happy, and that's the best thing to know about your boyfriend. I see girls come in, upset and alone and afraid, and I thank every star in the night sky that I get to go home to you." She said, her eyes on his, and damn, when did his throat get tight?

"...I love you."

"I love you too." She smiled, stroking his cheek, her thumb brushing the stubble, and he turned his head to kiss her palm, eyes closing. Her pulse beat a soft tattoo against his lips, and he focused on that, feeling his own match up, hit the right rhythm...and that, right there, that told him all he'd ever really need to know. He sighed against her soft, soft skin, and smiled.

"Still wanna get pampered, then?" Her eyes brightened, just a little, but it was like the moon shining through the darkness; it made the butterflies in his stomach go wild, and he couldn't help the grin. "Time to strip, then." Her laugh, bright and true and /right/, filled the little apartment, and not for the first time, Clint wished time would stop, right here, right now. Because if ever there was perfection, it was in these moments with her.

* * *

"Hey, Barrows!" Clint sighed, resisting the urge to drop his head onto the butt of the brand-new rifle he was field-testing; it'd just make his headache worse, and between the glare of the sun and the idiots approaching, he didn't feel like adding any more problems.

"Hey, Daniels..."

"So, what'd your girl do to get the old Buzzard so hacked off?" The 'Buzzard' was Mae Johnson, and even after Cassie's quiet explanation of the events, he couldn't figure out what'd set Mae off so badly. Normally, they had a very respectful relationship, and Cass wouldn't hardly hurt a fly, let alone the woman who'd given her a second chance. Mae didn't tolerate stupid, though, and it was no wonder she harped on these morons. Clint wondered if he had enough time to roll away; probably not. And Daniels and his buddies were just damn dumb enough to follow him into the ditch next to his firing perch.

"Hell if I know, and really, you're asking me that out here? Think that can wait, don't you guys?" He added just a hint of the venom he felt into his voice; he didn't have much more time left, and he still needed a couple more tests with the scope before it was time for the range to close up. To add to his point, he pressed his right eye to the scope, zeroing in on the target a good hundred yards away. Not the longest distance by any means, but a good testing one, and it was his target, so he didn't give a damn.

"Awww, c'mon out and party with us! She's in the doghouse, right? She's gonna be all mopey an' shit like every other girl they've let go, so come live a little." The answer he /wanted/ to give them was a resounding 'fuck no', complete with a warning shot over their heads, but he grit his teeth and swallowed the swearing. /I will not kick their asses, I will not kick their asses.../

"Look, guys, I really gotta finish this, okay? I don't get it done, Alvarez is gonna nail my dick to my post until I do." There were groans all around and Daniels made a rude noise, but finally, they backed off, disappearing back into the building and Clint sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair for a moment before going back to lining up the shot. His CO wouldn't go to those lengths, but he really wasn't interested in being late; being late meant going home late, and going home late meant he'd miss even more time with Cassie. And maybe he really was getting old, but fuck it; she was better company than they had ever been.

* * *

"How is she?" Clint sighed as he sat back and waited for the captain to clear through his paperwork, her nimble hands filing it quickly and efficiently. He always had to stop in after his field-tests, and usually, it was a pleasure...but today, he was just tired.

"How is it that this place knows more about my girlfriend's new unemployment status than I do?"

"Because it's our job, we get bored, and we're nosy. And to be fair, she's a far cry from most of the others' significant others." Came the reply, just like he'd expected, and he saved himself the grumbling and just ran his fingers through his hair again. It wasn't nearly as calming as Cass' hands, but it worked a little bit. "And I like her. So, how is she?" He gave up.

"Upset still, but already up and looking for a new job. Unfortunately..."

"Everybody and their mother knows Mae, so she's shit out of luck."

"Pretty much. And of course, I couldn't extend anything to her..." Becky's dark eyes lifted, and she tapped her lips with the worn edge of her pen, clearly thinking.

"...You can't, no, you don't have the clearance. But I could use a secretary these days; you told me, what, six months ago that she had paralegal expertise and schooling?" He blinked, and a slow grin touched his face.

"Yeah, she went to college for it...Secretary, eh?"

"Secretary. A personal assistant, really, and I can grant her civilian protective status a hell of a lot easier." He nodded, and took a deep breath, the question he'd wanted to ask for a while now pressing to come out.

"...Beck, I...I have a question I need to ask you." She looked up again, this time from his last page, and her good humor firmed into solemnity. He took another breath, and let it go. "I want to marry her."

"...Took you long enough. Or is this just now coming out because...?" The inquiry was left mercifully blank, but he nodded, relief breaking through the nerves.

"Pretty much since we met, if I'm being honest, but even more so now. She's all I've ever wanted, needed...and I want to make her so happy. I know this would, I know she's been thinking about talking about it."

"Perusing wedding websites?"

"A little. Mostly just knowing what makes her tick now. And...I want her to know I feel the same. This...this will help." Her eyes went from joyful and teasing to solemn again.

"If worst comes to worst, and we both know how easy that is these days, then you'll be able to get her out of here safely. Hell, you'll be obligated. Now, the problem is, of course..."

"General Bulldog." She sighed.

"Don't call him that, it makes him grouchier."

"Fine, fine, General Bullen it is. Look, whatever I need to do, I will do..."

"I know. Just go ring shopping and get her something pretty, and I'll call her when you leave." He grinned a little bit and she grinned back, holding out a hand. "Congrats, soldier, you gonna get hitched."

"You sure she'll say yes?"

"If she doesn't, she's not Cassie. So yeah, I am. Get the hell out of here and go get your girl a ring." She shook his hand firmly and he chuckled, walking off with a much lighter step. And Beck would keep to her word; before Clint got home, Cass would have a job, and a damned good one. And now...now he could tell her the truth. Hopefully, after she said yes.


End file.
